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by theoxfordcommando



Series: Soul Meets Soul On Lovers' Lips [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, make-out fic, this is extraordinarily silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15168443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoxfordcommando/pseuds/theoxfordcommando
Summary: "Hawke took another step forward, only this time, there was nowhere to go.Fenris felt his back hit against the edge of Seneschal Bran’s desk, felt the warmth of Hawke finally pressed flush against him, all hard muscle and controlled power. Fenris had to tilt his chin further up to keep from breaking their gaze.“But I can’t help it,” Hawke leaned in close now, hands coming to rest on the desk on either side of Fenris, comforting rather than confining, “it seems that all I can think about these days is what I’ll do when I get you alone.”"





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [GothicPrincessWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicPrincessWitch/gifts).



> A very short and very silly kissfic inspired by gothicprincesswitch's age old list of make out spots for Fenris and Hawke. These boys are hopeless. And very handsy.

“Call me crazy, but I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Fenris glanced up at Hawke’s stern expression, his furrowed brow.  
“The seneschal said he would return with the agreed upon bounty.”

The line of Hawke’s lips tightened with poorly concealed irritation.  
“That was thirty minutes ago.”

Fenris looked forward again at the closed oak door that led out into the rest of the Keep.  
“And you suspect some sinister plot, I suppose?” Fenris asked, eyebrow raised. 

Hawke snorted.  
“All I’m saying is if I’d realised he was going to make us wait like this, I’d have sent Varric to collect the money.” That made Fenris laugh. 

Fenris caught it out of the corner of his eye as Hawke’s gaze darted over him quickly, distinctly heated.

“I had plans, is all.”

At that, Fenris raised both eyebrows, “That seems very unlike you.”

This time, Hawke turned his whole body to face Fenris. His arms were crossed but he wore a wide grin on his face.  
“That was the old Hawke,” he said, grin spreading, “I’m a new Hawke now. A Hawke with plans.”

“And what sort of plans would those be?” At his words, Hawke’s eyes once again swept over the length of Fenris’ body before the man met his gaze and held it. There was something transfixing about Hawke’s gaze. His golden eyes shone with a sharp intelligence that he usually tried to disguise. There was power behind those eyes, a raging inferno. Fenris found them captivating.

Hawke took a step closer, into Fenris’ personal space. Fenris could feel the heat off him now, the man radiated it. And after their reunion a mere two weeks ago, after the week they’d spent in bed making up for lost time, having Hawke this close had instilled in Fenris the subconscious need to touch, to take.

He swallowed around the dryness in his throat.

“I suppose I should confess,” Hawke’s voice had dropped an octave, as deep as his molten gaze, “these plans of mine are all fairly similar in nature.” He took another step closer, eyes never leaving Fenris’. “Or at least they all have more or less the same goal.”

Hawke took another step into him so that now only a few scant millimetres separated their bodies. “Not to mention, they’re all wildly self-serving.” 

Hawke took another step forward, only this time, there was nowhere to go.

Fenris felt his back hit against the edge of Seneschal Bran’s desk, felt the warmth of Hawke finally pressed flush against him, all hard muscle and controlled power. Fenris had to tilt his chin further up to keep from breaking their gaze.  
“But I can’t help it,” Hawke leaned in close now, hands coming to rest on the desk on either side of Fenris, comforting rather than confining, “it seems that all I can think about these days is what I’ll do when I get you alone.” 

Hawke was being a terrible tease. Fenris knew Hawke would never act on his words, not out here in public, not without Fenris’ express permission. Fenris was done being teased.

The heat that had been building in Fenris’ belly grew into a fire as he finally reached up to pull Hawke’s mouth to his before Hawke could pull away and leave him wanting. He didn’t miss the look of pleased surprise on Hawke’s face as he went easily where Fenris directed. 

First their noses bumped together, then their chins, but finally Fenris got Hawke angled the way he wanted and he gave himself over fully to the sensation.

He’d finally lost count now, of how many times he had kissed Hawke. Although he imagined it was likely somewhere in the low thousands.  
And still each kiss felt like the first, new, thrilling, addictive. Hawke’s mouth was warm and wet, and as his tongue slipped between Fenris’ lips, his hips ground against Fenris’ groin, making the elf groan in the kiss. 

Hawke wanted to spend the rest of his life hearing Fenris make that sound. Hawke ground against him again, just to feel, but the feel of all that taut muscle rubbing against the hardening length of him was nothing in comparison to the sound it drew from Fenris’ throat.

Sucking firmly on Fenris’ bottom lip as he pulled back, Hawke’s hands fell to Fenris’ hips and held on, lifting him easily so that Fenris now sat on the desk, Hawke caged between his firm thighs. 

Fenris’ hand slipped on some papers and he quickly brushed them off the desk and out of his way. He heard a clatter as Hawke cleared off the other side of the desk with one large sweep of his arm. But before he could think to concern himself with what they might have broken, Hawke’s lips found his, needy and insistent. Hawke’s hands found his hips again, dragged him closer so that only half his ass was resting on the wood of the desk. At this height, their cocks pressed against each other when Hawke ground against him. 

Fenris let his head fall back on a gasp, which gave Hawke the full length of his neck to explore with lips and teeth, finally finding a stable rhythm as he rolled his body into his lover’s, the heat almost unbearable through the layers of armour. 

Hawke pulled away from the bruise he was sucking into Fenris’ neck to bring their lips crashing back together, panting against his lips inbetween fervent kisses, “Maker, I could have you right here. You would let me?”

“Yes.” Fenris growled, pulling Hawke into him, encouraging him with hands and legs and lips to move faster, press harder. He wanted to feel Hawke take him apart piece by piece because he knew Hawke would put him back together again. 

Hawke lifted a hand to rub firmly against Fenris’ prominent erection.

Fenris bit down on Hawke’s earlobe.

Hawke whimpered.

The doorknob jiggled. 

“Fuck!” And just like that, Hawke was gone in a flash, throwing his whole weight against the Seneschal of Kirkwall’s unlocked office door.

“Serah Hawke.” Seneschal Bran sounded more annoyed than usual. 

Hawke looked to Fenris, wide-eyed and bewildered and that struck Fenris as perhaps the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life. 

The Champion of Kirkwall in full scale armor sprawled against a door to keep an angry public official at bay, an extremely obvious erection standing to proud attention. The look on Hawke’s face simply completed the picture.

Fenris began to laugh as hard as he ever had, doubling over on the desk, his own throbbing desire forgotten when faced with the tableau before him.

“Fuck!” Hawke said again, more quietly this time, but just as emphatic. 

“Serah Hawke I assure you this is not amusing. Let me back into my office.”  
This only caused Fenris to laugh harder. 

And Hawke, While still panicked, could not stop a smile of his own as he finally managed to speak, in a voice much higher than his usual; “Sorry I don’t know a Hawke, please check back later!”

Fenris thought he might make himself sick from the way his lungs were heaving. 

“Hawke. Open this door before I fetch the Captain of the Guard.” The threat of Aveline seemed to sober Hawke a bit, if only marginally. He gestured wildly at the papers scattered all over the floor and Fenris managed to finally push himself off the desk and begin rearranging the room. His laughter had not subsided. 

“Now Serah,” squeaked Hawke, still splayed across the door, “I told you there weren’t any hawks in here. Just us cleaning staff tidying things up, come back in an hour!”

There was a loud bang as the door shook from the force of what must have been an impressive kick. Yet Hawke was too big and much too stubborn to be moved. 

“Right then.” Came the Seneschal’s voice, eerily calm. “I’ll just be off to have a quick discussion with Captain Vallen to see what she thinks of our new maid service.” There was silence for a few tense seconds. Fenris looked up at Hawke from where he had finished tidying the desk and managed not to break out into a new bout of hysteria, but only just.

“Oh and if you do happen to see messere Hawke, you can tell him he can say goodbye to that bounty.” The Seneschal’s dismissal finished with the sound of angry footsteps moving away from the door, presumably headed to the barracks.  
Hawke ushered Fenris over hurriedly and Fenris went to his side, pressing close as Hawke opened the door a crack to peer out into the hall. The seneschal’s back could just be seen disappearing around the corner. 

“Run!” Hawke whispered frantically in Fenris’ ear. And so he did, Hawke right at his side as the two of them bolted out of the Keep, dodging confused guards and annoyed nobles as they flew down the long flight of stone steps and out into the streets of Hightown, laughing all the way.


End file.
